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Aix
Denver, CO |
Los Danzantes
Oaxaca, Mexico |
Asia de Cuba
West Hollywood, CA |
The Sanctuary
New York, NY |
Ghenet
New York, NY |
Moustache
New York, NY |
Lemongrass Grill
New York, NY |
Steak Frites
New York, NY |
Caffe Taci
New York, NY |
Sammy’s Noodle Shop & Grill
New York, NY |
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| Asia de Cuba |
8440 West Sunset Boulevard
West Hollywood, CA
323.848.6000 |
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The relationship between the couple at the table next to mine was in its death throes; I could smell the stench of their failed love a mile away. My fellow diners that evening at Asia De Cuba were a who's who of "who's that?", a rich tapestry of flashy semiwealthy white young Los Angelinos doing their best to outposture one another. The sophisticated ultramodern decor screamed 'fabulous' with its whimsical game of "How many shades of white can possibly fit in one room?"
I was confused by the guy's choice. Not his choice in date; she was the perfect compliment to his generic good looks, the air freshener to his Hummer. Why dump her here of all places, it was full of shiny moderately happy people, and a little pricey for a dump n' run. I considered their situation over a pleasantly smooth glass of Truchard merlot, from carneros, 1999 ($12).
Their eyes barely met as they shared a calamari salad of chayote, hearts of palm, banana, cashews over chicory and radicchio, served with sesame orange dressing ($20). Clearly both knew what was coming; although she was smiling I could see it in her eyes... if I squinted just right and managed to see past her unnaturally bramble-thick lashes.
I was enjoying the delicious Cuban spiced chicken served with roasted tomato-ginger sauce and citrus palmito salad ($30) when it hit me. As I looked around the room at the smiling toothy men and the smiling overly made-up women and the smiling middle aged producers trying to get laid off smiling trashy golddiggers standing by the smiling mojito-dispensing bartenders I suddenly understood why he had chosen Asia de Cuba as his dumping ground.
He could dump her, tell her he slept with her sister, and her mother, and that her roots were showing, and no matter what horrible words came out of his mouth she could never stop smiling for fear of being spotted here in an emotional state other than one of supreme joyful complacency.
I mentally raised my merlot to her wiley companion. Well-played, my sick little cheeseball, well-played. |
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| chumwater |
| May 22, 2003 |
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